


What's My Name?

by iluvkinkythings



Series: cop!Jensen [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bottom Jared, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Light Bondage, M/M, Manhandling, Rough Sex, Top Jensen, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 19:12:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iluvkinkythings/pseuds/iluvkinkythings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenage Jared (pref virgin) sneeks out and runs into cop!Jensen. Jared drools from a distance but Jensen notices and decides to teach the teenager a lesson. Bonus for: cuffs, dub-con, dirty talk (found on spnkink_meme )</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's My Name?

**Author's Note:**

> No beta for this fic, and English isn't my native tongue, consider yourself warned!

There’s nothing that Jared enjoys more than sneaking out of the house at night to stuff himself full of junk food at the food court of the mall when he’s hungry. Well, okay, that’s not totally true, he can think of a few things that are actually better than that but it’s still rather nice. Especially when there’s a really, really hot man in an equally hot police uniform sitting at the table next to his, sipping on a diet coke while checking his emails on his phone, the sleeves of his dark blue shirt rolled up his muscled forearms and a cigarette carelessly tucked behind his right ear. Alright, he’s easily twice Jared’s age but smoking hot nonetheless and now that Jared’s finally admitted to himself that he’s gay, he’s free to watch as much as he wants.

Jared retrieves his iPhone from the pocket of his jeans and quickly types a text that he sends to his best friend, as he knows that Sandy will a) still be awake and b) able to appreciate the situation as much as he does.

_There’s a hot cop sitting right next to me :)_

The answer isn’t long to come.

_You’re always surrounded by hot guys, I’m so jealous! Picture?_

It’s a little bit spooky, stalking and perving on the poor guy like this but Jared can’t help himself; forcing himself not to giggle like a stupid girl, he pretends to type an other text as he discretely turns the device toward the hottie and snaps a picture. He makes sure that it isn’t too blurry—it isn’t, thank God, Jared’s not sure he could take another one without drawing attention on him—before sending it to Sandy.

_OMFG I want to do bad things to him!!!_

_He’s mine, bitch, back off!_

Jared laughs softly as he slips the phone back in his pocket and he can see the guy watching him by the corner of his eye. He slides a hand in his hair, making sure to flex his biceps as he does—he’s particularly proud of his hard earned muscles at the high school gym—then shakes his head so his bangs falls back on his forehead and licks his lips. The guy doesn’t seem interested though, as he goes back to fiddling with his phone. Jared stays there a couple more minutes, stealing glances when he thinks he can get away with it, until it’s time for him to go back to the bus station if he wants to be back home before 3AM.

He gathers all the mess he made on his tray and gets up, throwing it away in the trash. It’s eerily quiet, with only a few teenagers sitting on a bench not far away—and why do all other teenagers think that sitting on a bench in a mall is like the coolest thing in the whole universe? It’s even dumber at night when they’re virtually no one to see them but whatever—but Jared figures it’s kind of normal for a Thursday night in a small town in the suburb of Dallas.

He’s slowly making his way to the exit, looking dreamily at the video games shop and the new Call of Duty exhibited in the window when someone puts a hand on his shoulders. When Jared turns back, his heart beating a little bit harder at the unexpected touch, he is face to face with another policeman, and this one is definitely not as hot as the one in the food court; in his mid fifties, with a huge belly that falls over his belt, a balding head and a thick moustache, the man looks like a walrus. Now that Jared takes a closer look, he’s not a policeman but a security guard. “Could you please follow me, buddy?”

“Is there a problem?” Jared asks, frowning and more than a little bit worried even though he knows that he did nothing wrong.

“We had a call about a troublemaker that could fit your description. The boss wants to talk to you. You don’t have to be worried. Not yet.”

Jared swallows difficultly and nods. They walk a few minutes then go through a door with a sign “Staff Only” that you can’t open if you don’t have the magnetic pass. They pass through a large open space to a cold, small office at the very back. There are only a small, wood desk, a leather seat and a bright blue plastic chair. A small door to the left leads to what looks like an archive room from what Jared can see by the tiny square window. There are no paintings on the walls, no photos on the desk; nothing that could give him a clue about who owns this office.

“Sit down, the boss will be there shortly.”

Jared does as he’s told and waits a long time, growing more and more nervous by every passing second. He wants to get up and walk but he doesn’t dare and stays right where he is until he hears people talking outside the room.

“Thank you, Morris,” a deep voice says, “you can go home now if you want to, I’ll deal with it.”

“You sure boss? Something could happen while you… question the suspect.”

“It should be alright. Pearce and Kramer are still patrolling out there and it’s a quiet night except for our little friend.”

“He’s not so little, sir.”

“I’ll deal with it,” the voice that’s not Morris repeats, making it clear that the conversation is over.

“Alright. Night, boss. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Morris.”

It falls quiet again and Jared is left waiting some more. He wonders if it’s a trick to get him more nervous; if it is it works, as Jared is sweating now and can’t stop fidgeting in his seat because of his nerves. The door finally opens, revealing the man whom Jared drooled over what seems like an eternity before.

“You’re a policeman,” he babbles before he can help it, the fear suppressing his brain to mouth filter.

“Yes I am. And the chief of security here the night. Now now now,” the guy says, a hand caressing his nightstick. “Please get up and face the desk, your hands on your neck.”

“I did nothing wrong, I swear,” Jared pleads though he’s already obeying, turning his back to the man and raising his arms to lock them behind his head.

“Maybe not. I have to perform a body search anyway.” Large, rough hands roam up and down Jared’s torso, as if they expect to find something hidden under the thin cotton of his tee-shirt, then pat down his legs before slowly going back up to his crotch which is thoroughly cupped, too. Despite the fear running through his veins, Jared can’t help being a little bit aroused too and his dick twitches in his jeans.

When the policeman is apparently satisfied that Jared doesn’t have any weapon on him—though if he were to check the crotch again, he might find something suspicious alright—he retrieves Jared’s wallet from the back pocket of his cargo shorts and rummages inside of it. “Jared Tristan Padalecki, born July the 19th 1995 in San Antonio, Texas.”

Jared keeps silent, not knowing what’s expected of him.

“Well?” The man asks. “You’re not gonna ask me my name?”

Jared is totally lost. “Your name, Sir?”

“Yes, my name. That would be the polite thing to do, asking people their name before taking their photo without their permission, wouldn’t it? Before sending it to a friend and mocking the person.”

Jared feels his blood turn cold and a particularly impressive shiver shakes his whole body. “It wasn’t like that, Sir.”

“No? Really? What was it like, then?”

But there’s no way Jared can tell the truth, either. He’s not sure the man would like it, and considering they’re alone in this part of the building, the last thing he wants to do is to piss him off. If something happens, it will be his word against the man’s and who will believe a fifteen years old when they have the version of the chief of the security? Okay, maybe Jared’s watched too much TV but still, he isn’t in a good situation right now.

“Let me think about it, then. Why would someone take a picture of a cop if it’s not to mock him? It’s the uniform, right? Does it make you hot?” When Jared doesn’t answer, the man slides a heavy and very cold pair of handcuffs around Jared’s wrists and bends him roughly over the desk. “Answer the fucking question, kid.”

“Yes,” Jared cries. “Yes, it does!”

“What does what?” the man singsongs, evidently amused.

It’s humiliating, really, to have to say that, especially when Jared’s treacherous dick went from almost soft to diamond hard during the brief display of power but Jared hasn’t much of a choice. “The uniform, it—it makes me hot!”

The officer runs his nightstick on Jared’s neck to keep him from moving as he resumes his talking. “I should have known that you were having dirty fantasies running through that big head of yours. I should have realized that you were perving on me. Tell me, boy, did you think about me fucking your tight little ass? About sucking my big cock?”

Jared whimpers. He knows that he should try to make it stop, that technically he could try and fight the man but he doesn’t. It reminds him of the Milgram Experience, where people would do whatever the authority would tell them to do without asking a single question, despite the disputable nature of the orders. But it’s not like that, at least, not really. Sure, Jared doesn’t dare to say otherwise because the man is a cop, but most importantly, he _enjoys_ doing what he’s told to do. He’s read about it online; it’s called being sexually submissive.

The man grabs Jared’s hair with one hand and bangs his head against the hard wood of the desk, not enough to hurt but definitely enough to scare him to obedience. “Answer the question.”

Jared does. “Yes…” he murmurs, praying that he won’t be forced to tell more. The policeman keeps one hand in Jared’s hair and tightens the other one around both of his bound wrists as he slowly glues himself to Jared’s back and ass, and if Jared’s not mistaken, it’s not a nightstick that he feels pressing between his cheeks but the man’s hard cock.

“It’s your lucky day, kid,” the man whispers into Jared’s ear. “I’m gonna fuck you, and fuck you so hard you’ll feel it for days. But first…” Jared’s shorts and briefs are on the floor with lightning speed and his tee-shirt rolled down his arms, catching on the metal links of the cuffs; Jared’s totally naked, his cock spilling precome over the desk, the fine hair on his thighs rising at the unexpected cold. “Now, that’s better.”

The man sits down on what looks like a very comfy leather seat and pulls his cock out the uniform pants, stroking himself lazily as if he has all the time in the world. The man didn’t lie, he has a big cock and Jared’s a more than a little impressed.

“Please,” he says and the man asks him what he wants but Jared doesn’t know. The only thing that his stupid brain is coming with is another litany of “please”. The man chuckles darkly before crooking his index in the universal signal for “come here”. Jared tries to get up but gets unbalanced because of the way his arms are bound in his back—and fuck but his wrists are aching, he’s gonna have huge bruises, he knows it, and how the hell is he gonna explain that to his friends, to his family?—and he falls on his knees in a dull sound.

“Crawl,” the man says with his deep voice, and Jared’s brain wants to say no, it really does; unfortunately, his body thinks differently and he starts crawling to the man, his cock rock hard and heavy and bobbing between his legs.

“Please,” Jared says again. When he’s close enough to the man who reduced him to a cheap, begging slut, Jared’s once again grabbed by the hair and his face is pressed into the other man’s crotch. The musky and heady smell is strong, and Jared finds himself salivating, wanting this more than anything he’s ever wanted in his life. At this very moment, he realizes that resistance is totally futile; he’s gonna do this and love it, consequences be damned.

He opens his mouth to lick and suck at everything he can reach at this uncomfortable angle, moaning when he first tastes the salty tang of the man’s sweat. A hard and painful tug on his hair gets him closer to where he really wants to be, but not closer enough; he still can’t get it in his mouth. The man runs the tip of his cock against Jared’s cheeks, leaving strings of precome behind him, then slaps Jared’s lips with it.

“You want it, boy?”

There’s nothing that Jared wants more in the world right now. He nods, or at least tries to, because the guy still has a tight grip on his hair— Jared loves it, that’s a big part of what makes the whole situation so hot— then opens his mouth bigger.

“Such a good boy…” The man praises as he slides the head of his cock in Jared’s waiting mouth, and okay, it’s even bigger than expected but that’s alright, Jared’s always up for a challenge. He stretches his lips wide around it and it’s a little bit uncomfortable but that doesn’t matter because the sharp and bitter taste of the man explodes on Jared’s tongue and it only makes him want it more.He runs his tongue around the man’s cockhead as good as he can, slides it into the slit to get more of that taste he’s already craving, and starts to suck lightly, remembering all the tricks he learned by sucking his brother’s best friend this past year. The man lets him do what he wants for a few minutes, but soon grows tired of the slow pace that Jared chose and shoves deeper.

Jared panics a little bit when he feels him pressing at the entrance of his throat but he takes a big breath by the nose and concentrates to relax the muscles as he learned to do not so long ago; the man’s cock slides right in until Jared’s lower lip are brushing big, heavy balls and his nose buried into nicely trimmed, coarse hair.

The man allows Jared a few seconds to get used to the feeling, then pulls out slowly by lifting Jared’s head, only to plunge back in brutally fast. He starts to fuck his face in earnest with long and hard thrusts, his balls slapping against Jared’s spit-covered chin with loud noises.

There’s little that Jared can do except take it but he likes it, way more than he thought he would. It feels good to let himself be vulnerable like this, to offer himself to be used for the sole pleasure of a man he doesn’t even know. It goes on like this for five or six minutes, maybe a little bit more, and Jared’s starting to wonder how much stamina the man got because he doesn’t seem even remotely close to come—Jeff’s friend always come pretty quick— and Jared isn’t sure he’s gonna be able to take it much longer as it becomes more and more painful for his jaw.

The man either has mind reading powers or a perfect timing, because he pulls out of Jared’s mouth in loud, obscene noise and Jared once more marvels at the width of his cock. The man opens one of the drawers of the desk and takes a large bottle of lube out of it. It’s half empty and Jared has to wonder what exactly happens in this office, and how often.

“Alright,” the man says, cutting Jared’s train of thoughts. “I told you I’d fuck you and I will, but first we’re gonna play a little game. I’m gonna ask you three easy questions. If you answer them all correctly, you’ll get to chose how many fingers I’m gonna open you with. If you don’t, _I_ ’ll get to chose. You wanna play, boy? If you don’t, no big deal, I’ll just let you go.”

_I’ll just let you go._ Yeah, right. As if Jared would able to leave with the state he’s in right now. Of course he’ll play the fucking game. He’s so far gone that he doesn’t even care if he wins or not as long as he gets fucked good in the end. “I’m in,” he croaks more than he says, his voice totally fucked up after the rough treatment his throat just got.

“Good. First question, then. Do you have a condom in your wallet?”

The man didn’t lie, it’s easy. Jared always has a condom in his wallet, just in case. Turns out it’s a good idea. “Yes,” he answers.

“Second question. How much fingers do you want, if you’re able to answer the third question?”

Okay, that one was weird, because technically there are no wrong answers so it probably means that Jared can says whatever he wants and it’s gonna be okay. He thinks about it for a few seconds, and goes for four fingers so he’ll be stretched wide open for the man’s thick cock. It should be more than enough, or at least, that’s what Jared hopes.

“Four fingers, uh? Three would do it but if you’re not used to big cocks, I guess mine can be pretty intimidating,” the man comments and Jared can detect the pride in his voice. Cocky bastard. “Third and last question now. You ready?”

Jared nods.

“What’s my name?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Jared doesn’t know. Even when the man told him he should have asked a little bit earlier, Jared still didn’t ask and he now sees he’s in trouble. What is he going to do if the man decides to open him with only one finger? Or worse, if he decides not to open him at all and just shoves right inside?

“You don’t know, uh? Too bad, then. I get to chose. You’ll have… two fingers before I fuck you senseless.”

Jared sighs, relieved. Two fingers should be okay, right? Jared doesn’t know; he’s never been fucked by someone this big. Hell, what is he thinking? He’s never been fucked _period_. He wonders if the man would change his mind if Jared told him he’s a virgin. He probably would; he certainly likes to play mind games and to act tough but Jared’s pretty sure he would stop if he actually said no. The thing is, Jared doesn’t want to stop. He wants to get fucked, and he wants to get fucked by this man right now so he keeps silent. He can do this, and he will. “How--how do you want me?” he asks, and Jared feels a big rush of pride rushing through him as he catches the pleased look and smile on the man’s face. It makes wonder for his self confidence.

“Bend over the desk. A little bit more--” The man handles Jared like he wants him, pushes him down so his chest is flush against the desktop and then lifts his left knee, making Jared feel more exposed than he already felt. “Yes, like that. Perfect.”

The first slicked finger goes in rather easily--Jared may be a virgin but it doesn’t mean he never played with himself before, and he can take more than that. The man is careful not to brush his prostate though, Jared doesn’t know why but it’s alright, it feels good anyway. The second finger worms its way in a few minutes later and it’s a tight fit but the man is slow and careful, scissoring his fingers and stretching the muscle, opening him good. Jared’s soon begging for more, another finger—please, another finger!—but the man tells him no before kissing his neck and coating some more lube on Jared’s swollen rim.

“It’s gonna be okay, you’ll see. It hurts at first but then, you’ll never want it to stop,” the man says as he starts pushing inside and Jared doesn’t believe a word because it hurts so much that he really can’t see himself enjoying it in a near future. From now, it’s decided, he’s not gay anymore. Or at least, he won’t ever be the one who takes it up the ass from now.

The man keeps pushing inside, inch by inch, until he’s buried balls deep. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks and seriously, is this guy for real? It was bad, still is, and Jared’s about to tell him just that when the man adjusts the angle; his cock shifts inside of Jared and presses straight on his prostate.

“Fuck!” Jared yells as pleasure shoots through his whole body and the man laughs knowingly behind him. “So… Do you want me to stop?” the man asks and Jared is forced to admit that being gay and getting fucked is pretty much awesome, especially as the man pulls out slowly until the thick head of his cock catches at his rim and shoves back in hard, grazing the right spot again and again.

Jared’s dick is achingly hard and leaking steadily on the desk now, and he wants to touch it, to bring himself off so freaking bad but he can’t, not with his hand still cuffed in his back so once again he’s back to pleading. He’s pretty sure he’ll be denied but the man surprises him by sliding one of his hand between his legs to cup and play with his balls for a while before taking Jared’s cock firmly in hand and jerking him off hard and fast, just as he likes it.

“You gonna come, boy? You gonna come for me and make a big mess all over my desk?”

It takes a few more strokes but Jared finally comes, so hard that there are white stars dancing in front of his eyes and he screams as he shoots all over the desk and his belly. Behind him, the man is breathing hard, losing all control and going at it at a breakneck pace until he comes as well in a low grunt, the hand that isn’t holding Jared’s still half-hard cock tightening on his hip in a way that will leave another bruise on Jared’s used body.

They stay like this for a while, not moving and not speaking, until the man pulls out and releases Jared’s aching wrists from the cuffs. Jared doesn’t move, _couldn’t_ move even if he wanted to. The man killed him and Jared thinks that there is no better way to go.

“You alright, kid?”

“Mmmm yeah, that was awesome.”

Jared can see the man nodding as he removes the condom from his softening cock, then tying it and throwing it in the rubbish bin before tucking his cock back into his pants.

“Well, what are you waiting for? I have work to do, now.”

Jared gets up and quickly gets dressed, a little bit disappointed. He knew that it wasn’t serious for the man, that he’s just another guy he fucked but still, he didn’t expect him to be this cold and distant. “Alright, hmm… Thanks,” Jared says, always the polite boy, as he exits the room, then finds his way out of the building. It’s a quarter past three and the next bus isn’t due before 34 minutes so Jared has a lot of time to examine the large purple lines running around his wrists. He has no idea how he’s gonna explain that to his parents, and he just can’t wear long sleeves in summer. Maybe Sandy will have an idea.

He briefly considers sending her a text but decides against it, it’s something he wants to tell her face to face—without mentioning the fact that he’s apparently a subby little slut, of course; he doesn’t want her to know that.

He looks inside his wallet, then. The condom is gone, of course, but instead of it he finds a small, rectangular card. On it is written Jensen Ackles, followed by a phone number and an address that’s not too far away from his house.

Jared smiles.


End file.
